More Than Money
by Cooking Spray
Summary: Han reflects back to the moment he knew he couldn't desert the rebellion. . . yet. HanxLeia, one shot.


More Than Money

by Cooking Spray

Well, since my last fic was well-received (Thank you, KnightedRogue, Kitty, and Vivid Butterfly!), I decided to go ahead and run with this idea. The character of Han is harder to write IC than that of Luke's, but I'm hoping that my experience in writing characters of his type will bring me the same success. The setting is once again post-ANH, and. . . Well, just read!

* * *

"I there was more to you than money!" 

The moment she said those words, I knew I couldn't make this rebellion thing another get-done-and-get-out expedition. Yet. Of course, to avoid any damage to my ego, I wrote off all those nagging factors that voice in the back of my head kept reminding me of. It was perfectly logical for a smuggler with a bounty on his head to want to stick around with a bunch of fresh-faced rebels illegally opposing the Empire. Perfectly. But logic's boring, anyhow.

It's not like she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever laid eyes on, either. Sure, she had a nice, petite figure, a pretty face, and all that, but in my eyeblink of history I'd definitely seen much better. Still, whether I wanted to admit it or not, there's definitely something interesting about a woman who's not afraid to take out storm troopers and order you to stuff yourself into a trash compactor during her own rescue. It'd almost be endearing, really, if I went for the spitfire type.

So here I found myself in the middle of a bunch of screaming rebels, most of them looking not a day over twenty if _that _told you anything, and I'm seriously regretting ever turning the _Falcon _back around. Green-horn and Her Majesty have attached themselves to me, and for some reason I'm smiling like someone's shoved a holo-light up my ass. Chewie's no help, either, but that's nothing new. And that's when she says those nine magic words, which have popped into my head time and time again, long after the moment had gone, and long after I'd collected and then guiltily given back the credits she was worth.

She said it so casually, just slipped the comment in as you would any other standard greeting. I said nothing at the time, and I tried not to read too far into it, but it kept plaguing me. _"I _knew _there was more to you than money!" _What, did I unconsciously give off some vibe that gave me away as a good guy? That one sounded ridiculous even to my own ears. And I knew there was no way she could've dug up any records on me in such a short amount of time, let alone have cared enough to go about doing so. Or was she just that good a judge of character?

I'll admit, that one actually scared me a little. But only a little.

I made it through the ceremony without a hitch. I stood alongside Luke and watched him puff his scrawny chest up as the princess slipped that medal over his head, and contemplated ways to make Chewie hand over his share of the reward. For sith's sakes, did she wear any color other than white? Was she trying to appear as more of a goddess that she already did?

_Bad thoughts, Solo, bad thoughts_. I might've winked or something when it came my turn to be decorated, to keep up my image. She, however, just smiled, in a way that managed to be both sexy and infuriating at the same time. I'd never imagined such a combination could exist. It was almost as if she were taunting me. And maybe she was.

Ordinarily, whenever a woman starts to play these little games, I'm outta there faster than you can say _Falcon_. (So it was a crummy punch line. Go ahead, say something about it.) But as we've established, these were anything but ordinary circumstances. So, for some sith-spawned reason that I'm not really sure of even now, I stayed put, and let the little princess plan her next move. If I were anyone other than myself, I'd have admitted I was curious. But that's just the thing, isn't it? I'm not. So I wasn't.

Things went on that way for a while. We'd pass each other in the hangar bay, or in the mess hall, and she'd flash that same, knowing smile, and I'd waggle my eyebrows or do something equally incorrigible. The woman seemed to know all my tricks, though, because it was the same smile every day. For the first time in my life, I might've been worried. But, of course, I wasn't really, for the same reason I wasn't curious _or _scared. I'm me. Don't you forget it.

So, though I still wince when I look back on it, I broke down one day. The truth of the matter was, I was running out of suitable replies that were insinuating or aloof enough to give to that smile. And I'm a guy who hates to lose.

She was walking past me, tray in hand, when I decided to make my move. "Hey, Beautiful. Couldn't you use some more rations on that tray? You're delicate enough as it is."

She stopped and turned, and it was like someone had pressed a button. The knowing smile was definitely not there anymore. Instead, a look of cold, almost brusque civility had replaced it. And when she spoke, her tone was the same. "Good afternoon, Captain Solo. I can assure you that I have quite enough rations to satisfy myself. You needn't worry."

What in the name of Vader's ridiculously large helmet was _wrong _with this woman! That line never failed, and believe me, I should know. And here she was, acting as if I had proposed that we hand over the base coordinates to the Empire and surrender. Well, two could play at that. "Well sorry, _Your Highness_. Didn't mean to trouble you."

"I'm sure you did not. Apology accepted." And with that, she stuck up her nose - _she actually stuck up her nose _- and stalked off. All because of one little comment!

I was ready to head out, credits and all, and be done with all of them, Alderaanian princesses included, when I realized that I still hadn't gotten my answer. I couldn't believe myself. I was being held hostage by my own desperation to have a casual comment explained, when I was certain that I would risk taking a laugh in the face. I was sinking to new lows.

What was the most frightening, however, was the fact that I just might take that risk anyhow. . .

And obviously, it wasn't _really _frightening. That would be putting brave Corellians everywhere to shame.

A few days passed after that unfortunate meeting, during which I was vehemently ignored (I had to hand it to the woman, she was very good at giving the silent treatment). I still didn't know what horrible offense I had committed against her, but I was pretty sure it wasn't enough to deserve what I was enduring. And what was I saying, 'pretty sure'? Of course I didn't deserve it. Sith, when had I started doubting myself?

Anyway, the point was, I decided to give it another try.

This time, we happened to bump into each other in supplies. She was looking for data pens, and I for disposable dinnerware. The opportunity was too perfect to pass up.

"Need a hand with that?" So data pens weren't especially heavy. Would _you _have had a better idea?

I was rewarded with a rather impressive glare, if I'm qualified to say so. And I've seen my share of glares in my lifetime. "No thank you, Captain. I believe I can manage quite well on my own." She continued rummaging.

What was with all this "Captain" stuff? "No need to be so formal, Princess." I grinned.

"I could say the same to you."

Maybe it was just me, but I thought I heard the ice in her voice thaw out just a bit. I took my chances anyway. "You could, but you wouldn't have to."

She paused for a moment and looked square at me. Was that amusement I saw in her eyes? "Is there a point to this conversation?"

"Only if you want there to be." I tried to look as charming as possible.

Perhaps it was the witty (well, I thought so) comeback or the lopsided grin, or perhaps it was a combination of the two. Whichever it was, she smirked. "You don't give up easily, do you?"

Before I could think of a reply to that, she gathered up the data pens and left, leaving me to find the dinnerware by myself. I couldn't help but notice how her smirk was still intact even as she exited.

If my name were not Han Solo, and if I were not still adhering to the idea that I'd be out among the stars again in a couple of weeks, I'd have admitted that I felt the first flicker of attraction then, standing alone in the supply room and watching her go.

That incident seemed to open the door for an increasing number of encounters. After barely seeing her for two weeks, I seemed to run into her everywhere. And each time, it seemed that she let her defenses down just a little more. Getting my answer was still an objective, but it was at the back of my mind most of the time, just there to justify all the time I was spending around her and actively seeking out her company (and wasting my time in spectacular arguments like you've never seen). It became a convenient excuse to feed to that annoying little voice, the one that sometimes questioned my actions. But, as I knew better than anyone, a trick used one time too many ceases to have any value. That's even more true when the person you're tricking happens to be yourself.

It was during one of these mental battles, a particularly bad one, I might add, that I was pretty sure I was losing, that I decided to do something about that unanswered question, once and for all. As I was well aware, that took away the only card I had left to play in this downhill struggle with my subconscious, but that was something I would deal with later. It was fairly late at night, past the time most people at the base would've been asleep. We'd been staying up playing holochess (I had tried to persuade her into agreeing to a game of sabacc, but she'd given me some line about it being "just like me", and of course I had to prove otherwise), and Luke had been with us earlier in the evening, but he had long since retired. Being the more competitive of the group, that left the princess and I to continue on. Though I hated to admit it, we were pretty evenly matched. Hence why we were still at it.

She was in the process of cornering my queen when I popped the question. In a roundabout way, understandably. You think I'd be tacky enough to come out and say it?

"So, Princess. . . if sabacc's just like me, how come I remember you saying that I wasn't all about money?"

Her gaze shifted from the board to me. She looked puzzled; startled, almost. I couldn't blame her for the puzzled part. I had kinda brought the topic up out of the blue.

Her face only stayed that way for a split second, though, before another expression took over. It was the expression that never failed to drive me crazy, the one that implied that I'd unconsciously said something really entertaining, or that she knew something about me that I didn't. "And just when I think I've seen all of you there is to see. . ."

What in sith's name was she talking about? "I can be surprising," I said in defense, giving her one of my famous grins.

"So can I. Checkmate."

I looked down at the board. She wasn't lying. Chewie, who'd been sitting not too far off, watching us duke it out, gave a satisfied sounding hoot. _You're losing_.

_Thanks for reminding me, pal_. I chose to ignore the fact that it didn't sound like he was discussing the game, and met the gaze of my opponent.

"You never gave me an answer."

She had the audacity to laugh. "I can't believe you need one!"

"Believe it, Sweetheart." I was still grinning. I was hoping my good dental hygiene regimen was going to provide me with a breakthrough.

"No, I won't! I didn't know you were still so concentrated on maintaining your old persona. How intriguing, Captain. I'm sure your conscience puts up a good fight."

Was I supposed to know what she meant by that? "Gives me nightmares, is what it does."

She laughed again. "Shut up and make your move."

If I hadn't known she was referring to our game of holochess, I might've followed her advice.

We stayed up almost until dawn, that night, and the topic was never brought up again. Instead, we resumed our old pastime of shooting retorts back and forth and making witty banter. By the time a victor was determined, it was decided that it would be best for all parties involved if she just spent the night (or rather, what was left of it) in the _Falcon's_ spare bunk. I went to sleep feeling oddly relieved, and something else that I didn't want to give into quite yet. I still had my card, my ace in the hole. But I was holding on to it with a slackening grip.

It wasn't until much, much later that I realized she had won more than the game of holochess that night: She had won my heart.

And, more importantly, I finally realized what more there was to me besides money:

There was her.

* * *

Thoughts? I'm actually rather pleased with this. I think I managed to pin down the indomitable Han Solo pretty well, for a first try at least. I love these two! If only this piece had allowed for more dialogue. . . That's the best part!

I'm churning these things out with a fervor I haven't felt in my writing in a truly long time. I think I may be on to something. Hope for it.


End file.
